


i love you most (but i'm not worthy)

by TheQueenInTheNorth



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: (badly) arranged marriage, F/F, Female Kasius, Infidelity, Princess/Guard, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 02:22:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17613644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQueenInTheNorth/pseuds/TheQueenInTheNorth
Summary: Kassiopeia marries who her father chooses, because that is what is expected of a princess. Sinara follows her to her new home, because that is what is expected of a guard.After that, not much goes as expected.





	i love you most (but i'm not worthy)

Sinara isn’t quite clear on why she’s been named Princess Kassiopeia’s personal guard, to go with her to her soon-to-be-husband’s manor. All she knows is that as Kassiopeia walks down the aisle, she has never looked more beautiful, or more forlorn.

Sinara’s seen her almost daily for years, now, seen her dancing and laughing and gossiping with friends. She’s seen her watch the soldiers’ training, seen her rise onto her tiptoes to whisper something in her brother’s ear, seen her light up when he followed her advice, most times, even if he always, always rolled his eyes. She’s seen her smile at her from across crowded rooms, never entirely certain those smiles were meant for her at all, and she’s seen her blush brightly when she dared to smile back.

She’s even seen her cry, once, back when she’d been a wet behind the ears, freshly appointed palace guard and the princess had sprained her ankle on her watch. She had let her climb a tree in a dress not made for such things to look for abandoned eggs in a nest, not sure how to tell her no. It had had little to do with titles and rank, and far too much to do with wide, blue, excited eyes.

She’s never before seen those eyes as glazed over, as cold and expressionless as they are now.

Kassiopeia doesn’t smile as their eyes meet this time, but her shoulders straighten a little, her chin lifts a fraction, and she steps forward to meet her betrothed not looking all too much as if she was meeting the firing squad instead.

* * *

Lord Ryles is not the worst man to marry but the princess’ hand is still a great concession to his faction.

Standing stony-faced outside the throne room, Sinara and her fellow guards had hardly had a choice but hear the Emperor and the crown prince sink into near-screaming arguments on the matter. Prince Faulnak loves his little sister in his own way, indulgent and bemused where their father is irate and sees her for nothing but a bargaining chip when the dealings at court took a turn he does not like.

Sinara’s not surprised that Faulnak comes to see Kassiopeia off, to help her into the carriage and kiss her cheek, to clasp his good brother’s hand and make a joke that could be something other than a threat only if you did not see the gleam in his eyes.

Sinara goes to sit down across from the princess when Kassiopeia’s fingers close around her wrist, tugging her to her side instead.

Her new husband frowns as he follows them inside but doesn’t say anything, Faulnak’s jovial, menacing words still fresh in his mind as he takes the seat intended for the guard.

Sinara doesn’t speak the whole journey. There’s nothing out of the ordinary about that, of course, but the newlyweds do nothing to fill the silence either. She’s almost tempted to say something just to make the heavy atmosphere a little lighter.

She holds her tongue, as she should. She tries to ignore that Kassiopeia’s hand still rests on her arm and think nothing of it, as she should.

She wonders how those soft, lithe, perfectly manicured fingers would feel buried in her hair, as she really shouldn’t.

* * *

Kassiopeia is out of the carriage the moment it stops, fists bunched into the fabric of her dress as she janks the sweeping skirts through the too narrow door. She doesn’t stop walking once she’s outside.

Ryles shoulders past Sinara to follow his wife, and she follows them both a little ways behind, the way a good guard does.

She takes in the grand marble staircase and the colourful windowpanes; she watches Kassiopeia’s shoulders stiffen when Ryles places his hand on her lower back. She hears the clatter of spike heels high enough to have the princess stand taller than her, hears the quip Ryles makes about her eagerness when she walks faster yet. She hears the lock slide into place when Kassiopeia suddenly turns into a guest room and slams the door in her husband’s face, and hears the deafening silence that follows.

She doesn’t know whether he intends to try to get her back out when he takes a half-step closer to the door. She does not wait to find out. She’s here to guard the princess.

Sinara slides between the door and Ryles without a word. There is a threat in the innocent tilt of her head as there was in the friendly quirk of Faulnak’s lips.

He scoffs and retires to a cold, empty, lonely wedding bed.

* * *

The door slowly creaks open hours later; Sinara is cold and stiff and tired but right there still. The relief in Kassiopeia’s eyes makes the weariness melt from her bones.

“You’ve been here this whole time?”Kassiopeia asks as she opens the door properly. She’s shorter again, her shoes discarded by the door. She is still wearing the wedding dress and it’s rumpled; she’s clearly slept in it. Sinara only nods in response. Kassiopeia gestures her into the room.“I’m sorry, I should have thought.”

“I’m your guard,”Sinara says. She’s not used to apologies and does not know how else to respond.

“You must be tired,”Kassiopeia says and locks the door behind them.“I only thought of getting away from Rye.”

The nickname makes it seem almost as if she isn’t averse enough to her husband to lock herself away in another wing of his mansion. But Sinara knows better; they share a social circle and grew up in each other’s spheres, Ryles not quite two years older than the princess. It puts him at an age with Sinara. It puts him in a group of people who call the princess Peia, and who she calls by fond nicknames in return because she is expected to.

“Could you help me take this off?” Kassiopeia gestures to her dress, looking up at Sinara through her eyelashes, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.

Sinara doesn’t react for a moment too long. Her mind is stuck on all the times she’s thought about peeling the princess out of all those layers of lace and satins, about the willowy figure underneath.

Perhaps those thoughts are painted on her face a little too clearly because colour rises in Kassiopeia’s cheeks as she clarifies,“I can’t reach all the clasps by myself.”

And so Sinara nods jerkily; she somehow keeps her fingers from shaking as she undoes the fastenings and even when she accidentally brushes against soft skin.

“Thank you,”Kassiopeia says when the garment is pooling at her feet, the sheer chemise underneath all she’s left with.

Sinara thinks she must be blushing now herself. She doubts it’s even a fraction as enchanting as it is on Kassiopeia.“No problem, Your Highness.”

It comes out a little gruffer than she’d have liked, but she almost said _My pleasure_ and the thought of that truth slipping out terrifies her.

“You should sleep as well,”Kassiopeia says.

She curls back up in the bed and Sinara takes an armchair for herself, dozing off to the sound of the princess’ even breathing and the smell of her perfume in the air.

* * *

Sinara stands by through awkward meals and stilted conversations and tense, silent afternoons.

Ryles does not conceal his indignation, makes none too subtle jibes about her neglected wifely duties and no effort for Kassiopeia to feel comfortable in what is supposed to be her home now, too.

The princess sits through it with a patience that she should not have to show, and that Sinara cannot find within herself. She dreams of snapping Ryles’ neck long before the first week is out.

In the comfort of the guest chambers Kassiopeia has made her own, the weight lifts off her shoulders and she returns to her lively, lovely self. She talks with her hands and goes through five subjects a sentence and touches Sinara so naturally she might not even notice she’s doing it.

They’re walking in the sprawling gardens one day; Kassiopeia’s hand is tucked into the crook of Sinara’s arm, as it usually is, and she is silent, as she usually isn’t.

Ryles had been particularly unkind over breakfast. Sinara wants to say something. She doesn’t know what. All that comes to mind is to offer to kill him.

“Sometimes I think,”Kassiopeia says eventually, frowning as if she isn’t quite sure she should say it,“I should just get it over with. I will have to, at some point, if I want a baby.”

Sinara still doesn’t know what to say. The _have to_ is worse than the thought of Ryles touching her already is. She clears her throat.“Do you want a baby, Your Highness?”

It’s a question far too personal to be asking the princess. It is still the most innocuous reply she can think of.

Kassiopeia stops walking abruptly, dragging Sinara to a halt with her and stepping around her so she can look her in the face. She doesn’t look angry at the invasive question. She’s scowling, yes, but if anything it’s confusion.“I’ve never thought about that. I never even noticed I’d never thought about that. I just always knew - well, I’m supposed to have one, aren’t I? Or else the marriage alliance is pretty meaningless.”

Sinara lets her ramble on until she’s talked herself through the matter and shrugs.“I might want one, maybe. I don’t want Rye’s.”

She takes Sinara’s arm again. As they continue their walk, Kassiopeia’s happily pointing out which plants have been brought in from other planets.

* * *

Sinara has to remind herself to turn the page occasionally. She’s pretending to read not because the book isn’t to her liking but because it’s awfully difficult to focus on anything other than Kassiopeia, lounging in the armchair across from her own, long legs thrown over the armrest. Her giggles are soothing after her stoic iciness during dinner with Ryles; she’ll read out any passage that she particularly likes, gesturing wildly with her empty glass. She must have spilled about half, at least.

Sinara empties her own glass. It’s sweeter than she’d ever pick herself but the flowery note suits Kassiopeia, and perhaps that’s why she gets up to pour herself another.“More wine, Your Highness?”

“Kassiopeia,”the princess says. Her lips are slightly parted and stained red with wine. Sinara forces herself not to stare.“Please, call me Kassiopeia.”

“Alright,”Sinara says, smooth and casual as if it was a simple request, as if her heart weren’t in her throat with it.“More wine, then, Kassiopeia?”

The name is even sweeter on her tongue than the wine.

* * *

“Your hair’s so pretty,”Kassiopeia says, tucking her own behind her ears. It barely reaches her chin.“Mine gets all lank and lifeless when I grow it out.”

Sinara gives a non-committal hum and continues brushing her hair; imagining anything about Kassiopeia as lifeless is preposterous.

The princess crosses over to her.“May I?”

Sinara hands her the brush before her mind has even fully processed the question, scooting over to make room. Kassiopeia sits so close she can feel the warmth of her body anyway.

It becomes part of their daily routine. Kassiopeia brushing her hair, telling her stories about her mother who used to do the same for her, clever fingers twisting intricate designs, gentle fingers stroking through locks without any purpose at all.

Sinara sits and listens, and keeps her eyes wide open because if she closed them she would be sure she was dreaming. She’d wondered what Kassiopeia’s fingers buried in her hair might feel like.

Now she knows. It does little to assuage all the other wants and wishes racing through her mind.

* * *

Kassiopeia has her legs drawn up against her chest, head resting on her knees as she waits for Sinara to decide on what to do.

“I’d finish you in three turns,”she warns as Sinara’s fingers brush a game piece.

She frowns but quickly finds the possible moveset she had overlooked.“You’re not supposed to keep pointing out mistakes, Kassie.”

“But how else will you learn?” Kassiopeia smiles brightly, the way she always does at the nickname. Peia doesn’t suit her, Sinara thinks, and as it turned out the princess agrees.“Did you know I requested you as my guard?”

Sinara rolls her eyes at the complete non-sequitur. Then she registers the words properly.“What? Why?”

“It’s silly,”Kassiopeia says. Her cheeks are flushed with colour and as she continues she’s talking to her hands more than Sinara.“You probably don’t even remember. I was fifteen, I think. I tried to climb a tree and sprained my ankle. You had to carry me back to the palace.” She glances up only for a fraction of a second.“We were the same height back then but I’d never felt safer. It’s silly,”she repeats.“I just wanted you at my side.”

“Of course I remember,”Sinara returns with more emotion than should fit into four simple words. And how could she possibly forget?

She’d wiped her tears away and then, without thinking and without later knowing why she’d done it, brushed a kiss onto her forehead. The princess’ sobs had calmed to sniffles, and when she’d clung to Sinara as she carried her back to the palace, it had not felt as if she’d done it because she was frightened.

Sinara had been frightened, though. She’d overstepped, and she’d known it, and she’d waited and waited for a punishment that never came.

Instead here is a reward, now, years later. Sitting cross-legged on the princess’ bed with a gameboard between them, Kassiopeia chewing on her lower lip but her eyes smiling, Sinara desperately wanting to ask if she may kiss her again, properly this time.

Instead she swallows around the knot in her throat and wills her heart to slow down as she moves a piece across the board.“It’s your move.”

She wonders if the princess knows she means so much more than the game.

* * *

Sinara stares at Kassiopeia incredulously.“You can’t be serious.”

“Go on, sit down,”she insists. She’s pouting, just a little.“Ryles isn’t coming. Sit down. Please?”

Of course Sinara sits down, back stiff and hands folded in her lap. It feels somehow more inappropriate to sit at the dining room table than it does to retire to the princess’ rooms every night. Probably because they can’t be seen, there. Sinara already feels the servants’ eyes boring into her back; they probably can’t wait to hurry off to the kitchen to gossip.

“So where is he?”she asks once the servants have done just that the second they’ve finished dishing up.

Kassiopeia shrugs.“With his mistress, I suppose. I don’t care as long as he has the good grace to be subtle about it. Faulie would lose his mind if he wasn’t.”

The crown prince’s nickname, often as she has heard it at this point, is still more shocking to Sinara than Ryles taking a mistress. She’s surprised it has taken him this long, really.

“Pass the salt, dear,”Kassiopeia says, and Sinara obliges.

It’s nearer to domestic bliss than anything Sinara ever thought her future held, especially when they’re back in their quarters and Kassiopeia’s braiding her hair, reciting a poem she found in an old, heavy book Sinara had to get off the shelf for her.

“Can I tell you a secret?”she suddenly interrupts herself and then continues before Sinara has a chance to reply.“I lied.”

Sinara tilts her head in a silent question. Does she mind her husband’s gallivanting afterall?

“About my hair,”Kassiopeia explains.“I cut it off because I hated people touching it all the time. It made me feel like I had some control, for once.”

Her laugh is a little bit bitter, a little bit uncertain.

“Oh,”Sinara says. She can understand that. The main reason her hair is as long as it is is because she was made to shear it all off in the barracks.“For what it’s worth, I like you touching mine.”

She wants to swallow the words back down as soon as she’s said them, sure they are far too daft, but Kassiopeia smiles and squeezes her shoulder before she returns her attention to her hair.“For what it’s worth, I really like it, too.”

* * *

Faulnak’s engagement feast is an ordeal, and Sinara leaves it with bloody crescents in her palms. It’s all she could do to keep herself from crossing the dancefloor and punching Ryles square in the face.

He has an iron grip on Kassiopeia all night long, knowing full well she can hardly shake him off here for all to see, a smug smirk plastered on his face.

Whether it’s the drink he’d heavily indulged throughout the celebrations or the simple fact that not once did his good brother interfere, Ryles spends the better part of the night knocking and shouting outside Kassiopeia’s door.

She’s shaking like those tiny birds she’s always picking up, her face hidden against the crook of Sinara’s neck, refusing every offer to go out and put an end to this.

“I’ll just have to marry someone else,”she mumbles.“Someone who might be worse.”

Sinara wishes she could tell her things can only get better than this. Sinara wishes they lived in a world where that was true. She wishes she could kill every last one of them and take Kassiopeia some place where she isn’t prisoner in what is supposed to be her home.

Instead she mutters soothing nothings into her hair, and goes and shatters three of Ryles’ fingers under her heel when he finally passes out in the hall. He’s confused and enraged the next day but blames it on the drinking.

Kassiopeia cites a headache and doesn’t leave her chambers for three days.

* * *

The good thing about Ryles, Kassiopeia says, is his great-grandfather’s library. She never tires of exploring it, and there’s decades worth of books still left.

She’s checking another shelf, balancing on one of the rickety old stools as usual, Sinara’s hand on her hip steadying her as usual. Once she is done with her inspection, she turns and places her hands on Sinara’s shoulders for balance as she climbs down, as usual.

But this time she does not step back once she’s back on the floor, as she usually does. One hand stays right where it is, the other moves to cup Sinara’s cheek.

They are frozen in that moment for what feels like an eternity; Sinara is sure she must be dreaming, is scared to move and break the spell.

“Sinara,”Kassiopeia whispers eventually, so gently it’s almost drowned out by the pounding of her own heart that’s making Sinara’s head spin.

Their lips meet somewhere between desperation and tenderness, a stolen moment that neither quite dared to hope for, breathless and endless and over far too soon.

Later neither could say which of them closed the gap between them and initiated the kiss. It’s Sinara who stops it, drawing back slowly, the hardest thing she’s ever had to do.“We can’t.”

It’s all she can get out without her voice breaking. She is her guard, and that is all. That is enough. She can’t ask for more, not even if the princess offers it herself.

“We shouldn’t,”Kassiopeia agrees. Even now her hand remains on Sinara’s cheek.“But we can. If we want to we can.”

There is a question in that, a question in the way she looks up at Sinara.

Her sweet princess, with the soft hands and softer heart, with the wide eyes that beg, _Love me. Please, please love me._ Sinara could never tell her no.

* * *

Sinara doesn’t think she could possibly be any happier than she is in this very moment, half-asleep with sweat cooling on her skin, Kassiopeia drawing patterns across her body and absently humming some song. She’s never good at being quiet, Sinara thinks fondly.

And then Kassiopeia shifts to press a kiss to the spot just under her jaw, to sigh contentedly and whisper,“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, my love.”

Her heart might just burst in her chest. She would be happy to die like this.

“So have I,”Sinara says. It doesn’t feel enough but she has never been good with words. She pulls Kassiopeia closer instead.

* * *

The Emperor huffs impatiently“Still no news of a grandchild, then?”

“Not yet, Father,”Kassiopeia says, her smile frozen on her face.

“Leave them be,”Faulnak interrupts goodnaturedly.“They’re young, there’s so much time. You know Peia will have a whole gaggle of little ones sooner or later.”

Just last night, Kassiopeia told Sinara she’d rather never have a child at all than have Ryles’. Her smile becomes a little more brittle yet. Her brother’s words always have more weight than her father’s.

“Hopefully sooner,”Ryles says, in a mockery of sweetness, reaching out to take his wife’s hand.

Sinara wonders if she’s the only one who can tell Kassiopeia wants to cry by the look in her eyes. She is certain she’s the only one who cares.

* * *

Whether he felt the tension over dinner or whether it’s a coincident Sinara cannot say but Faulnak drops by unannounced a few days later, so early Kassiopeia and Ryles are still in their respective beds.

“I’ve been a bit poorly lately,”Kassiopeia claims.“I didn’t want to infect Rye.”

Faulnak almost certainly doesn’t believe her. His frown is the same one Kassiopeia wears over particularly nonsensical academic papers.

Sinara steps out of the room discreetly. Ryles is pacing in the hallway.

“You take good care of my sister,”Faulnak commands when he finally leaves her room, and Ryles says,“Yes, of course,” and all three of them know the crown prince was talking to Sinara.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,”Ryles snarls at Sinara the moment the door shuts behind Faulnak.

She tilts her head, a wordless challenge.

He doesn’t elaborate. Clearly he isn’t all that sure what he is trying to accuse her of, exactly. He is angry, though. A wife who denies him what he thinks is his right is one thing; he can stomach that for the influence gained with her family. His good brother snubbing him in favour of a simple common born guard is more than he can handle.

Ryles scowls.“Just because you're fucking my wife-”

“Well, someone has to,”Sinara gives back snidely with a smirk before going to check on the woman in question.

She's not fucking his wife. She makes love to her, the way she deserves. It's a distinction that would be lost on the likes of him, so she doesn’t make it, simply letting him quietly fume out in the hall.

* * *

News of Ryles’ pregnant mistress reach Kassiopeia sooner than he anticipated. His own servants look to ingratiate themselves with the royal family. Sinara really thinks he should have expected as much.

“I’ll be right outside,”Sinara whispers as they approach his study.

Kassiopeia’s insistent on going in alone. It’s a delicate matter, best handled one-to-one. There is logic in that but it does little to calm Sinara’s worries. But she hardly has a choice but to stand by and listen, the way guards are meant to do until they spring into action.

“So, she’s pregnant,”Kassiopeia says in lieu of any greeting, leaving the door ajar behind her.“I trust you’ll take care of that?”

Footsteps follow her words. Sinara forces herself to stay where she is.

“I’m thinking we might keep it. Perhaps even have it legitimised.”

“You’d shame your wife that way?” Kassiopeia’s voice is cold and even. She doesn’t care about what bastards he fathers; she does care about what her brother might say when he finds out.

“Well, it’s not like I’m likely to get an heir out of you any time soon, wife.”

Sinara can hear the sneer in his voice, and the smirk in Kassiopeia’s.“If you’re too much of a milksop to deal with the matter, Sinara will just have to do it instead. Not like she isn’t used to picking up your slack.”

Sinara’s in the room as soon as the sound of flesh hitting flesh rings out. Ryles’ hand is still half-raised, Kassiopeia’s own pressed to her cheek.

Sinara has him against the wall before he can even attempt to react, her fingers closing around his throat. She does not bother with threats, it’s perfectly clear she means to kill him. His eyes are bulging out, terrified, and she’s never cared less about mercy.

But then Kassiopeia’s tugging at her arm and imploring her to stop, so she does.

Ryles drops like a bag of lead, grasping at his throat and drawing in desperate, shuddering breaths.

“If you ever so much as lay a finger on her again, nothing will stop me from ending you,”Sinara spits.

That’s not a threat, either. It’s a promise.

* * *

Kassiopeia is eyeing Sinara intently, half her face hidden behind an ice pack.“You know I didn’t mean that, right?”

“Mean what?”she asks. She’s pretty sure Kassiopeia meant it went she said she’d send her to take care of the bastard problem; she has no qualms about it either. If you’re foolish enough to think to carry the child of a princess’ husband, you’ve got only yourself to blame for the consequences, as far as Sinara is concerned.

“About you picking up Rye’s slack,”Kassiopeia says, setting aside the ice pack and reaching for Sinara’s hands. Sinara bites back a gasp at the sight of the bruise already blooming across Kassiopeia’s face.“It’s never been that. I was just trying to get under his skin.”

“Oh, that.” Sinara lifts her cold hand to press a kiss onto it.“Of course I know that, Kassie.”

She smiles as brightly as if nothing’s wrong in the world.“Good. Because I love you, Sinara, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,”Sinara says, forgetting to be surprised at how easily the words come to her when Kassiopeia leans in for a kiss.

* * *

Ryles comes storming into the room in a rage; Kassiopeia rolls her eyes and sets her tea aside.“Calm yourself, Ryles, this is not one of your gambling dens.”

“What did you do?”he demands.

She gets to her feet, as does Sinara.“What I told you I would. You had a fortnight to sort it and you didn’t, so I sorted it for you. You’re welcome.”

The sound he lets out might have made Sinara pity him, had he not lunged forward at the same time. She’s between them in the blink of an eye.

Either Ryles doesn’t care who he targets his rage at or he knows that the orders may have been Kassiopeia’s but the hands that carried them out were Sinara’s. Whatever the reason, he does not make another attempt to get to Kassiopeia.

Sinara could break his hold, she’s sure, but she doesn’t even attempt to. The last thing Kassiopeia said on the matter was  to not kill him; she’s not sure how else to end this. So she merely stops him from doing her actual harm. As long as his attention is on her, his anger is focused on her, there’s nothing to fear for Kassiopeia.

She did not take into account that Kassiopeia would fear for her.

She barely sees the flash of the blade before it’s buried in Ryles’ neck.

Just like that, it’s over. He’s dead and Kassiopeia’s crying, wiping at her tears with bloody fingers and only making more of a mess.

Sinara reaches for her and Kassiopeia falls into her arms, sniffling.“Faulie’s going to be so mad at me.”

Not exactly what Sinara was expecting. She pats her back gently.“He won’t, darling, it’s alright.”

“Not mad, maybe.” She pulls back a little to look up at her.“He’ll be disappointed, though. It’s the one thing I was supposed to do right. Father always said I don’t even have childbearing hips but Faulnak thought I’d marry well.”

Faulnak’s not always terrible, the way their father is, but sometimes the ways in which he isn’t are terrible all by themselves.

“I should’ve just let him get me with child,”Kassiopeia mumbles, kicking at Ryles’ corpse.“Then I could just stay widowed and never marry again.”

“I think there might be something we can do,”Sinara says.

She packs Kassiopeia off into a candlelit bubble bath to calm her down and then goes to take care of the less important things.

* * *

Ryles’ extramarital activities weren’t the best kept secret, so no one is surprised when he and his wife take a belated honeymoon off planet to sort their relationship out.

Kassiopeia bribes where silence can be bought and Sinara kills where it can’t. They have a cryo unit stowed away with their luggage, and false identities programmed into the chips that need it.

“You will be carrying the fetus?”asks a doctor that knows well enough not to have even asked for the false identities they could have provided. Kassiopeia nods happily. The doctor makes a note on his tablet.“And the stem cell donor?”

“That’s me,”Sinara says.

Kassiopeia has said, once, that she does not want Rye’s baby. Since they aren’t doing things the old-fashioned way, there is really no reason for that, anyway.

* * *

“Will you marry me?”Kassiopeia asks one night, still on a foreign planet, still with a cryo unit hidden away among their belongings.

Sinara half thinks she must have misheard but humours her anyway.“Love to, darling, but you’re not even officially widowed yet.”

“Very funny,”Kassiopeia deadpans and shoves her shoulder.“I’m serious. I know we can’t have the union marks and everything, but I’d like to say the vows and mean them.”

Sinara could never tell her no, and she did not want to tell her no, either.

So with no one but the stars as their witnesses, they whisper promises into the night.

_I pledge my love, devotion, faith and honour as I join my life to yours. For I am yours, as you are mine._

* * *

They return to Hala a few months later, once talk of Ryles’ affair has blown over and the newest scandal has taken its place.

The ship crashes and Ryles burns strapped into the pilot’s seat. Sadly, Sinara had no time to go back for him, busy carrying the princess from the wreckage.

As all those years ago, she brushes an absentminded kiss against her forehead. As all those years ago, Kassiopeia’s hand is curled into the fabric of her uniform.

Her other hand rests protectively on her rounded belly.

* * *

They name their daughter Amarina, for Kassiopeia’s mother.

Her grandfather calls her _little one_ , and most days Kassiopeia says it’s because he can’t be bothered to remember what she’s called, but some rare days she says it’s his attempt at sweetness, and some even rarer days she admits it might be because he can’t force his late wife’s name across his lips and not mean her.

Faulnak calls his niece _my baby princess_ , lets her follow him around as much as she likes once she gets the hang of walking, and never remarks on the girl falling into the guard’s arms as easily as his sister’s. He compliments Sinara on showing Amarina how to throw proper punches, turning away before she can respond to tease Kassiopeia over how they’re already stronger than hers.

Kassiopeia and Sinara call their girl _beastie_ at times and _sunshine_ at others; she is both, with her scuffed knees and painted nails, with the books tucked under her arm and the knife tucked into her boot, with carefree, high laughter and a sharp, fast tongue.

Ryles’ mother calls her _sweetling,_ uncertain and suspicious, but not about to complain about the seat on the Emperor’s council she’s earned in the wake of her son’s death and the birth of a granddaughter who looks nothing like that son.

Amarina grows up knowing she has a mother who is a princess and had a father, once, before she was born, who left her an ancient, great house to rule and a faction to shape to her wishes. She grows up knowing that this is only the way it is on paper, too, and that she really has a mother who braids her hair and shows her how to feed baby birds fallen from nests and teaches her battle strategy, and another mother who lets her paint her nails with only small frowns and shows her how to climb trees without falling and teaches her between which ribs blades go for information, and between which to kill.

She has no father at all, really, but she has an uncle who, with only a look, can silence even the smallest hint of a whisper about how her cheekbones and jaw are a little too sharp to belong to either family name she claims, and that’s something better than a father she doesn’t think she would have liked much, by the ways her mothers talk about him, and more importantly don’t talk about him when they know she can hear.

She still calls Ryles _Father_ when she needs to make a point, sometimes, but she says it the way she’d say a title.

She calls Kassiopeia _Mama_ and she calls Sinara _Rara_ , and she says it with the same affection with which they brush kisses on her forehead.


End file.
